


Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?

by TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Aliases, Angst with a Happy Ending, Band Fic, Boys Kissing, Drama & Romance, Jailbait Patrick Stump, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stalker!Pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan/pseuds/TheSpiderThatKnowsThePlan
Summary: Joe meets a mysterious musical genius in Borders who only goes by "Axon". When thekid meets Pete and subsequently refuses to divulge his real name, Pete of course insists onfinding out. What Pete didn't count on, though, was falling in love with him on the way.FROM OTPPROMPTS.TUMBLR: “Person A goes by an alias, to the annoyance of B.The only way B will learn A’s name is to 'find that out for yourself.'”
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick once said he thought of using a stage name, possibly "Axon", but he's glad he didn't.

Joe and Chris sat in the cafe part of Borders, trying to shake off the school day over a couple of sodas while they argued about music, the one thing either of them cared about.

“Neurosis? Really, Joe? I didn't think you were that into punk.” Chris smirked and took a swig of his Sprite.

Joe got about as indignant as Joe ever got, which meant furrowing his brow in the laziest way ever in the history of the universe. “Neurosis isn't strictly punk, dude. They're more general hardcore, kinda metalish, especially recently. Have you heard _Times of Grace_?”

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, dude, of course, but they started out a punk band. Just because their latest album doesn't sound like the shit they were doing in the late 80s doesn't mean they're not still punk.”

A new voice piped up out of nowhere. “Actually, if the classification system in this store is to be believed, Neurosis is industrial. In the shop where I work, it's metal. They're totally walking the line between the two right now, for sure, but they're definitely moving away from being punk anymore. I mean, one album is an experiment. Three is movement.”

Both boys turned toward the newcomer who was standing next to their table, on the bookstore side of the low wall next to them. He was short, with a David Bowie t-shirt and his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. He wore a wool cap, and strawberry-blond sideburns crept out down his face. His blue eyes blinked owlishly at them from behind his dark-rimmed glasses. He looked impossibly young, and far too nerdy for this conversation.

“Three?” Chris said to the boy.

“Yeah, three. _Through Silver in Blood_ , _Times of Grace_ , and _Grace_.” The boy eyed Chris evenly, accepting the challenge.

“Wait a minute,” Joe interjected, “Neurosis doesn't have an album just called _Grace_.”

The boy smirked triumphantly. “Actually, they do. _Grace_ is technically listed as being by Tribes of Neurot, but that's just Neurosis's other identity. It's a companion to _Times-of_. And on top of it, _Grace_ is nothing like the any of the other stuff they've done. Kinda trancey. But the point is, none of those are classic 'punk'.”

Chris stared, agog, not sure whether he should be impressed or weirded out.

Joe opted for impressed. Not a lot weirded him out. “Not bad. What's your name, kid?”

The boy paused a moment, as though he were thinking about it, then simply said, “Axon.”

“Axon?” Joe said, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

The boy—Axon, apparently—just nodded silently.

“Well, uh,” Joe said, clearing his throat, “I'm Joe, and this is Chris.” Chris waved silently. Joe asked, “You really into music?”

“Yeah, man,” Axon said. “I work at Record Surplus. You know, after school. I'm also in a grindcore band.”

“What do you play?” Joe asked.

Axon shrugged. “Drums, for _grindingprocess_. But I also play guitar, bass, and piano. Trombone, too, but just for the school band.”

Joe nodded approvingly. “Wow, nice. Just so happens I'm on the lookout for a drummer and singer for my band. I play guitar and my friend Pete Wentz plays bass.” Joe had definitely dropped Pete's name on purpose, looking for a reaction.

“Pete from Arma?” Axon said, finally breaking his superior facade. “Dude, are you serious? You know him? Wait, then you're Joe Trohman?” Joe nodded. Axon went on, “I've heard you guys before, but never actually got to see you play. Arma's rad.”

“We were,” Joe corrected. “Pete and I wanna do something a little more, I don't know, pop-punk, I guess? Less screaming. You sing?”

“Kindanotreally,” Axon mumbled, blushing a bit. “I really prefer being behind a kit.”

“Well,” Joe said, finding his stride now that he had an ace to play with this nerdy kid, “gimme your number and I'll see about getting the three of us together. See what you've got.”

Axon nodded and eagerly took the napkin and pen Joe offered, scribbling furiously. Joe took it back calmly, then turned a crooked half-smile on the kid. “Well, alright,” he said as he stood up, nonverbally giving Chris the cue to do the same. “We gotta go, but uh, I'll give you a call.”

“Cool. Thanks, Joe. It was nice, uh, meeting you guys.” With that, the kid turned and was gone.

“Later, Axon!” Joe called after him.

Joe studied the napkin thoughtfully. There was the kid's name, a phone number, and a link to an mp3 page.

_Axon. Like **that's** his real name,_ Joe thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he followed Joe's directions. “You sure this kid's cool?”

Joe snickered. “Not remotely. But I told you, I've listened to his stuff. The kid's good. And he definitely knows his shit. Just, like, don't be too put off when you actually see him. Give him a chance. I can't put my finger on it, but... he's, just got something.”

Pete rolled his eyes as they pulled into the driveway. “I'll try.”

They walked up the front door of the very unassuming suburban home in Glenview, and rang the doorbell. Pete rocked on the balls of his feet and shifted his weight back and forth restlessly.

“Dude, chill, would you?” Joe said just as the door opened.

Pete stopped dead and stared, letting his mouth fall open. The kid ( _really, a fucking kid_ ) that stood in the doorway was even shorter than Pete himself, with pasty skin ( _seriously, does he hate the sun, or something?_ ) and strawberry-blond hair that poked out from under the baseball cap on his head. Blue-green eyes looked expectantly at him from behind dark-rimmed glasses, and all this sat atop a horrible argyle sweater, black shorts, black socks, and black sneakers ( _idek, I can't even, this is either awful or totally fucking precious, I can't decide yet_ ).

Pete cleared his throat and said, “So, you're, uh, 'Axon'?” The kid nodded. After a pause, Pete held out his hand and said, “Well, I'm Pete. Nice to meet you, 'Axon'.” He kept putting this undue emphasis on the word, like he expected the kid to burst out laughing and say _Yeah, you got me. That's just a nickname; my name's Tom_ or something.

Axon took Pete's hand and shook it and said right back, “Nice to meet you, 'Pete from Arma'.” His tone was tight and derisive, but Pete heard something softer underneath it. “Hm. I thought you'd be taller.”

Pete snorted. “You're one to talk, dude.”

Axon laughed. The little shit laughed. _At Pete from Arma._ “Yeah, true story,” he said amiably. “Come on in. My music stuff is in the basement.”

Pete stared in amazement as Axon moved effortlessly from drums to guitar to bass to piano at Joe's prodding. _Fuck, I'll call him Axon or Axl Rose or Jack Nappy or whatever the fuck he wants, as long as he agrees to work with us._ As he played “Tom Traubert's Blues”, Pete noticed the kid was humming along. And it was _good_. He elbowed Joe, who smirked and nodded knowingly.

“Dude, you sing?” he asked, a little dazed.

“Uh, kinda, but not really,” Axon said, ducking his head and blushing. He didn't stop playing, though. _I've made up my mind. He's fucking precious_ , Pete thought.

“Well, sing something, so we can decide,” Pete prodded.

Axon stopped abruptly, drawing his hands from the keys and into his lap. “I'm, uh, supposed to be the drummer, I thought.”

“Maybe,” Pete said coolly. “I wanna hear you sing first. We need a singer, too, you know.”

Joe spoke up. “Dude, I listened to your mp3s. You've got a good voice. Go on.”

Giving a sigh and a slump of his shoulders, Axon got up from the piano and grabbed an acoustic guitar. “Is Saves the Day OK?” he asked, jutting his chin a little, as if to dare either Pete or Joe to say it wasn't.

After a shared glance, both boys gave a shrug. “Sure,” Joe said.

Axon started strumming a little, checking his chords, then launched into “Through Being Cool”. Pete felt that dazed expression forming on his face again, and was torn between letting the kid finish the song and tackling him immediately to claim him as his own. _I officially love this kid_ , he proclaimed mentally.

“Dude, Axon, whatever your name is, you're totally singing for us,” he proclaimed verbally, and congratulated himself on managing not to voice that other thought out loud. Joe snickered again, apparently either reading Pete's mind, or getting ready for an argument.

“I'm a drummer,” Axon said, squaring his shoulders and facing Pete. “I only wanted to show you what else I could do because I wanna write the songs.”

Pete cocked an eyebrow. “You write?”

“Yeah,” the kid said, a bit more firmly. “All the time.”

“Play me something you wrote,” Pete challenged. I love this kid, sure, but no one gets the upper hand on Pete Wentz.

Axon lowered his head a bit and hugged the guitar. “Well, I'm not a fantastic lyricist, but... uh... ok.” And with that, he started strumming test chords again, then went into a riff that could best be described as kinda pop. It was simple, catchy, and then he started singing:

_If you only knew_   
_I'm terrified_   
_And would you mind if I_   
_Sat next to you and watched you smile_   
_So many kids but I only see you_   
_I don't think you notice me_   
_I'm not the way you think I am, no_

He stopped abruptly, flattening his palm on the strings to stop the ringing. “Uh, it's, uh, not finished, obviously.”

Pete was back to stunned staring, mentally upgrading his opinion to _Definitely tackle this kid, claim him, marry him. But first..._

“What's your real name, kid? There's no way it's 'Axon'.” Pete folded his hands around his kneecap. A practiced, seemingly relaxed move, but Joe knew this meant Pete was Up To Something.

“It's 'Axon',” he said flatly. He got up and put his guitar on the stand, turning his back on them and clearly meaning to close the topic.

Joe rolled his eyes as Pete stood up and put his hands on his hips. “No one names their kid that. Come on, just tell me your real name,” Pete pressed.

The kid rounded on Pete now. “You can call me 'Axon' or you can not call me. You want a drummer or not?”

“No. I want a singer-songwriter, Axon.” Pete leaned his chin forward as he said this, daring the kid to countermand him. “If you want to write songs for us and go by that very obvious stage name, then you have to sing.” He flashed the toothy Pete-Wentz grin, knowing he'd already won.

Axon sighed deeply and closed his eyes a moment, weighing his options. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, shrugged, and held his hand out to Pete. “OK, OK, I'll sing, as long as I get to write.”

Pete took the kid's hand slowly, then suddenly yanked on it, dragging him into a fierce hug as the poor boy made a strangled noise at the unexpected move. “Come on,” he said softly into the kid's ear, trying to put him off-kilter. “What's your real name, dude?”

Axon pushed him away and straightened his shirt. “Find out for yourself,” he bit out.

Joe sighed and shook his head. Pete's eyes widened as he crossed his arms in front of him.

“Challenge accepted,” Pete said, still grinning.

Joe patted Axon's shoulder. “Dude, you have no idea what you've just set in motion.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete starts simply.

When Joe and Pete came up from the basement, the kid's mom was in the kitchen. “Well, you must be my son's new... bandmates? We hope?”

“Oh, yes, ma'am,” Pete said, reverting to his charming pseudo-lawyer persona. “I'm Pete Wentz, and this is Joe Trohman. It's nice to meet you, Mrs....” he trailed off as he held out his hand, waiting for her to supply the information he suddenly, desperately needed.

“Oh, please, call me 'Pat' or 'Mom',” she said with a tinkling laugh, taking Pete's and Joe's hands and shaking them. _Damn_ , Pete thought, _so close._

Pete let his gaze wander around the kitchen, hoping for an errant piece of mail, a report card on the fridge, anything that might bear the kid's actual moniker. “Your son is quite a talent, Mom,” he said, going immediately for the most intimate, least formal.

“Mhm, he definitely is. He gets it from his father. David was a folk musician.”

“Was?” Pete asked.

She nodded. “Oh sure. He's in real estate now, all cleaned up and proper, but once upon a time, he was dirty with long hair and ratty jeans, just like my son.”

“Axon,” Pete supplied.

Pat opened the fridge. “Can I get you boys something to eat? Maybe a soda?”

Joe decided to intervene. “I'll take a soda, Pat.” He elbowed Pete while she leaned in the fridge, and shot him a look. _Don't you dare frighten this nice woman offering us refreshments_ , it clearly said. Pat turned around and handed a Coke to Joe, who thanked her appropriately.

“So,” she said, leaning on the fridge. “What kind of music are you boys planning on making? Uh, Axon's tastes definitely tend to range all over the place.” She seemed to be making a concerted effort to call him that, Pete noticed. The kid had obviously talked to her before they got there.

“Probably, like, melodic pop-punk. Anyway, I'm curious about this folk band. Would I have heard of them?” Pete was preparing to do some serious internet digging, and Dad's name would be a big help, and not too direct of an inquiry.

“Oh, no. David would kill me. Like I said, he's a proper businessman now. We don't talk about that.” She chuckled, a strange mix of affectionate and derisive. “I suppose it shouldn't matter now that we're divorced and he's out of state with his new wife, but... we still don't talk about it.”

“Don't talk about what?” the kid's voice said from behind them as he closed up the basement.

“Oh, Pete was just asking about your father's old folk band.” Patricia said this a little bit pointedly, eyeing her son.

Axon shook his head with a chuckle. He clapped Pete on the shoulder and said, “Nice try.” Pat laughed, too.

Pete raised one single finger over his head regally and said, “Love does not give up so easily!”

With that, he crooked his elbow and hooked it with Joe's, saying, “Come along, Joseph, we have much to do!”

Joe looked around apologetically, saying to Axon, “I told you, dude.” Axon just shrugged.

When they were gone, his mother laughed and said, “I like those boys. You should tell them.”

The boy shook his head and said, “No way, Mom. I've spent sixteen years trying to shed that clunker, and now that I can, there's no way I'm taking it back now.”

“I don't know,” she said in a cautionary manner. “That Pete seems pretty determined. Plus, I'm pretty sure his father is Peter Wentz, the big attorney. He probably has connections.”

The boy shrugged, “I guess I just hope his father has better things to do than track down a sixteen-year-old boy from Glenview on one of his son's undoubtedly many whims. I don't need my new band, and anyone who might come see us play, making fun of the lead singer's name, for God's sake.”

Pat raised her eyebrows. “Lead singer?” Axon nodded. “Well, you'd better be sure you cover your tracks, then, honey, because once the world hears you sing, I guarantee everyone will want to know who you are, and Pete will be the least of your worries.” With that, she went over to her son and hugged him tight. “You're gonna be great, baby. I just know it. Just don't be so eager to forget who you are, OK?”

He accepted the embrace and mumbled, “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

******

“Come on, Dad, please?” Pete begged his father over supper. “I just need some information on this kid. I know where he lives! I just need his name! Especially if I'm gonna be starting a band with him!”

Peter Wentz II sighed deeply, resigned. “Son, we have five new cases coming down the line, and Judge Moynihan is breathing down our necks as it is over the Farrell case. I have to be ready for trial by Monday, so I'm gonna be working around the clock as it is. You agreed to work with this boy, so you're gonna have to find out for yourself.”

“That's what he said, too,” Pete said sourly.

“Didn't you try asking his parents?” Dale, Pete's mom, asked, seeming a bit confused.

“It's just his mom. His parents are divorced, and his dad's out of state. Pat—that's his mom—she didn't say where. But she also was... like, she was, like, helping him. Calling him by this nickname, or alias, or whatever. 'Axon'.”

Dale frowned. “Well, that's... odd.”

Pete nodded. “I know! And Joe couldn't care less as long as we get enough people to get the band started. And honestly, I don't really care what he wants to be called, but like, how can I even be friends with him, or trust him, or anything, when he's hiding things from me?”

 _And how can I marry him without knowing what name to put on the license?_ he thought.

“Pete, do you honestly need this boy, if he’s so secretive? Can’t you find someone else to sing?” Peter asked.

Pete shook his head, suddenly lost in thought. Before he could think about it, the words came falling out of his mouth: “No, Dad. I need _him_.” And he did. He knew it with perfect certainty, innately, intuitively. He cleaned up his plate and went up to his room.

Upstairs, he flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling, his mind spinning. Was he in Witness Protection? Was his real name Dingelhopper Cumstain, or something? Pete was going to get to the bottom of this, if it was the last thing he ever did.


	4. Chapter 4

Pete sat bolt upright in bed, grabbed his phone, and dialed.

“’Lo?” Joe said on the other end, his voice croaking with sleep.

“Hey man,” Pete said, his fingers tapping on the bedspread. “Listen, uh, didn’t you say Axon works at a record store?”

He could hear Joe scrubbing his face with his hand. “Uh, um, yeah, uh… Record Surplus, I think.”

Pete thought a minute, then said, “Isn’t that in Des Plaines?”

Joe yawned, then made an irritated sound. “I don’t know, I guess so. Maybe.”

The wheels were turning now. “How many high schools are in Glenview? Two?”

“Jesus Christ, Pete, we are not seriously having this conversation. First of all, I don’t know, because I don’t live in Glenview. Second of all, he could go to a private school. Third of all, you are not, repeat, NOT actually thinking of following him to work and school. There are two words for that, dude. ‘Stalking’ and ‘illegal’.”

“Joe—“

“Good night, Pete,” Joe cut him off firmly. The line went dead.

“Not stalking.” Pete muttered to the empty room. “ _Investigating_. Gotta find out more about my lead singer.” _And future husband._

******

Pete parked in front of the little shop in the strip mall, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure whether he hoped the kid was there, or not. He got out and closed the door, then took a deep breath and went inside.

The smell of cardboard hit him immediately, like a library. There were rows and rows of old vinyls, and The Smiths were playing overhead. Pete grinned. This was exactly the type of place where the kid belonged. The only person working was a young girl with mostly-orange hair and milky skin, even paler than the kid’s. She met his eyes and smiled widely, openly.

“Hi there! Help you find anything?” she said cheerfully.

Pete walked up to the counter. “Maybe you can, uh, ‘Hayley’,” he said, reading the girl’s name tag. “Uh, you got a, uh, young guy that works here, reddish hair, glasses, young… wait I said that. But he’s uh, really smart, like a musical genius, and uh… he’s got this great smile, and…”

Hayley laughed and said, “Oh, right, you mean Axon.”

“You call him that, too?” Pete said, disappointed. “Do you know his real name?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “No one ever calls him anything but ‘Axon’.”

“Are you serious?” he groaned, dramatically putting his head on his folded arms.

“’Fraid so. He’s pretty adamant about it. I tried to tell him other people are supposed to be the ones to give you nicknames, but he basically said I can call him ‘Axon’—“

“—or not call him,” Pete cut her off, still with his head down. “He told us that, too. Is he working today?”

“No, he’s in on Thursday.” Suddenly, Hayley’s expression lit up. “Hey, aren’t you Pete from Arma?”

He groaned again. “Yes. I’m ‘Pete from Arma’.” He did the air quotes with his arms still folded under his forehead. ”I’m, well, kind of a friend of his, but I don’t know his real name, and he won’t tell me, and it’s pissing me off!” He lifted his head. “Do you know anything about him? Brothers and sisters? Favorite color? Favorite flower? Favorite food? Grilling him and his mother has already failed, so I need to know ways to bribe him.”

Hayley chuckled and said, “He doesn’t say a lot about himself, though I’ve tried. I think he’s the youngest in his family. Um, he likes a little place around the corner in Niles called the Himalayan. He got us takeout from there one night when we worked late together. A little too spicy for me, but what do I know? Um, I don’t know from flowers but his favorite color is orange. He’s got this one cap he wears all the time, bright orange. Plus, last week I dyed my hair this color… maybe it was to impress him,” she said with a little eyeroll, “and he complimented me on it, but unfortunately he’s, um, not into me. Not into girls, y’know.” She shrugged with a disappointed smirk. “But, anyway, he’s a great guy, if a little on the defensive side sometimes. You know, really smart, funny, and…” She trailed off, her eyes a little glassy.

“… and so cute,” Pete breathed, a dreamy look on his face.

Hayley patted his hand. “Oh sweetie, you, too, huh?” Her face was sympathetic.

Pete nodded. “’Fraid so.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “Hey, you gotta do me a favor. Just don’t tell him I was here nosing around, OK?”

“Maybe I won’t. If you do me a favor, too.”

“Depends on what it is.” Pete eyed her warily.

“Tell me his name, once you find it out?” she said slyly.

“That’s it?” Pete asked, confused.

Hayley nodded. “It’s driving me crazy, too.”

Pete smiled. “Well, I have one more question, then. Do you know where he goes to school?”

Hayley’s smile widened and she nodded again.


	5. Chapter 5

Pete sat outside Glenbrook South High School, in the student parking lot. He was on the hood of his car, drumming his fingers nervously, as he almost always did. A little before three, the kids started trickling out. Soon, all of them were flooding through the doors, laughing and chatting happily, some just turning their faces up for their first dose of the  
day's warm sunshine. Pete scanned the sea of heads, not entirely sure what he expected to recognize.

Then, there it was. The bright orange trucker cap.

Pete's heart skipped a beat as he saw the kid's smile, the glint of the sun off his glasses, and the strawberry sideburns. He was talking animatedly, books under one arm, the other flailing wildly as he no doubt was in the process of schooling some poor fool on whatever it was they were talking about. The two slapped a lazy low-five as they parted ways, and then the kid's eyes met Pete's, and Pete was pretty sure his heart stopped altogether.

Pete grinned like a madman and started waving furiously. Several kids started pointing and whispering, looking around to try and figure out who the lucky person was who had attracted the attention of _Pete from Arma_.

The kid stopped for a moment, staring back, then his expression shuttered completely. He walked over to Pete's car, hugging his books in front of his chest.

“What's up, Pete?” he asked, trying to sound cool. “You, uh, land that drummer, or something?”

Pete clasped his hands around his kneecap. “Not yet,” he replied. “I, uh, thought we could, like, y'know, hang out. Get to know each other.” He hopped off the hood and went around to the side of the car, opening the door like a true gentleman. “Come on,” he said with head flick and a grin.

Axon's expression turned quizzical. “You want me to drive?”

Pete looked down and saw he had opened the driver's side in his eagerness ( _and maybe a tiny bit of nervousness... but just the tiniest shred, honest_ ). He slammed it with a curse and trotted around to the passenger side, then repeated the gesture. The kid stared at Pete, then the open door, shifting his weight. Pete slumped a little. “Come on,” he pleaded. “I just wanna take you into the city for a while. I promise this is all totally above-board.” He flattened his free hand on his chest as he said this.

_I promise this is in no way fattening you up for the kill._

When the kid still seemed unsure, Pete just went for it. He clasped his hands under his chin and said, “Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?”

Axon rolled his eyes and grinned in spite of himself. “Alright, alright. Just stop with the... begging and stuff,” he said, looking around to make sure no one was catching this spectacle, then got in.

“Watch your fingers,” Pete said as he gently closed the door.

Once they were on the road, the kid turned to Pete. “Wait a minute, how did you know where I go to school?”

Pete quirked up one side of his mouth and said, “I have my ways. Now tell me, young Axon, where is your favorite place in Chicago?”

The kid's head threatened to disappear into his shoulders as he blushed adorably and said, “Um, just about anywhere. I guess, um, top of the list would be Reckless Records on North Broadway and the MSI.”

“Done,” Pete said, patting Axon's knee and smiling at him.

“Dude, watch the road!” Axon gasped, turning even redder. Pete laughed, loud and open, and he kinda sounded like Santa Claus had swallowed a donkey. Before the kid knew it, he was laughing, too.

They spent the car ride arguing over Bowie and Prince albums, and The Cure vs. Joy Division (Pete took pro-Cure, Axon pro-Joy Division), which then quickly expanded to involve Morrissey and the Smiths, which then led Pete to decree:

“Flag on the play! You're totally not even old enough to remember most of the 80s, little dude!”

The kid eyed Pete levelly. “So, what, I can't have listened to it because every record made before 1984 just fell into... _Disintegration_?” He raised his eyebrows at Pete, waiting for him to get the joke and start laughing.

Pete groaned. “Oh, man, that was awful. Like, so awful, I should have been the one saying it.” He risked a glance over, and saw the kid just looking at him, with a bemused half-smile. Pete knew that look. He inspired bewildered affection in almost everyone. As soon as their eyes met, though, Axon straightened his expression and averted his eyes to the road ahead of them. Pete looked front and center again and smiled, considering any softening of the kid's features a small victory.

They hit the Museum of Science and Industry first. Pete couldn't help getting even more excited at the way the kid's eyes lit up as he eyed the logo on the side of the building.

“I love this place,” he said, a little reverently. “Everything's... interactive, you know? Like, you're not just standing around staring at stuff.”

Pete nodded. “I know what you mean. I'm, uh, more of a doer, myself.”

“I did notice that about you.” Pete turned and saw Axon was smiling. Like, a real, genuine smile, with some teeth and everything. And it was for him. Pete felt his heart swelling in his chest at the sight.

He cleared his throat and patted the kid's knee again. “Come on, let's go.” Axon nodded eagerly, and they were off.

At the ticket desk, Pete pulled out his wallet and asked for two tickets. Axon reached for his pocket, but Pete gently took his wrist.

“My treat,” he said with a smile.

The kid smiled and blushed, looking at his feet. “Um, thanks,” he said, his voice barely audible. Pete paid, then took Axon's wrist again, leading him in.

Watching the kid in the museum was not unlike watching a kitten play with string. At every exhibit, Pete was sure Axon had just smiled and laughed and played in the cutest way imaginable, but then he moved to the next thing, did something even more impossibly adorable, and reset the whole scale. He was sure he would die from overload when the kid got on the giant hamster wheel and started running in place, his little feet pounding away, his face reddening, his breath catching as sweat started to mat his hairline...

_Oh, fuck._

“Hey, I think I got up to like 175 beats a minute there,” he panted as he rejoined Pete.

“Yeah, me too,” Pete breathed.

Axon looked puzzled. “But... you were just standing here, watching.”

“Yeah, I was.” He reached for the kid's hand without really realizing it, and Axon started a bit, giving Pete a confused look. Pete passed a hand through his hair and looked away.

“Uh, sorry, I uh... I just... um...” He swallowed, not sure what to tack onto the end of that sentence. “I, uh, I get kinda handsy with, um, people I like. It, uh, it bugs some people, y'know. Whatever.”

The kid stood with his hands cupping the opposite elbows, looking at Pete like he were a new species to be identified, or something. Pete bumped a fist nervously against his hip and shifted from foot to foot, awaiting judgment. “Sorry. I mean, if I, like, overstepped or...”

His sentence was cut off by Axon taking his hand. “It's OK. I just, wasn't expecting it.” Pete looked at their hands, then up at Axon's smiling face, and felt his face threatening to split in two from the grin overtaking it. “I wasn't expecting... any of this, really. But it's cool. Come on, I think you also promised me Reckless Records?”

“Yessir,” Pete said emphatically.

They spent a good hour in Reckless Records, discussing Elvis Costello albums and the artistic merits of Screeching Weasel.

“Well, supermarkets are a common place for people to gather and notice each other, when you think about it,” Pete reasoned.

“But they don't like Led Zeppelin. Isn't that, like, sacrilege, or something?” Axon asked jokingly.

“Well, to be fair, you said you were never a huge fan of theirs either,” Pete ribbed him.

Axon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I don't hate them. That song is pretty vitriolic.”

Pete shoved his shoulder. “That's an awfully big word for such a young, innocent little dude such as yourself. How did it even fit in that pretty mouth of yours?” Pete honestly hadn't meant it to sound as lascivious as it came out. Not at first. When Axon froze solid, though, like a deer caught in headlights, that lovely mouth hanging just a little bit open, Pete couldn't stop his eyes from drifting right to it.

After a few ineffectual jaw movements, the kid finally managed, “Are you... flirting with me?” His voice was just over a whisper.

Pete smirked, hoping he looked cool and confident. “Maybe,” he said in a low voice. “You have a problem with that?”

The kid's face was pure awe. “Not yet,” he breathed.

Pete let their knuckles brush. It was a discreet move, secret, just for them. “Good.” After a very pregnant pause where they just stared at each other, Pete finally said, “OK, let's either buy something or not. I'm hungry.” Axon nodded silently.

They went to Gino's for pizza, though after that first slice, the rest sat untouched as they argued about the Joey versus John eras of Anthrax.

They settled up and split the remaining pizza to take home, and Axon looked at his watch. “Holy smokes! I didn't realize it was already past eight! I gotta get home before my mom thinks I was abducted, or something.”

 ** _Holy smokes._** Pete sighed dreamily. _This kid. This incredible, beautiful kid just kept getting more and more fucking perfect._

“Well, you kinda were,” Pete conceded.

“Can't kidnap the willing,” Axon retorted, giving Pete a sly glance. Pete shook his head in pure awe, then grabbed the kid's free hand and they headed for the car.

When they pulled up at Axon's house, Pete put the car in park, then sat back, letting his hands fall to either side of his lap. They both just sat for a moment, each one obviously weighing the options.

Finally, Axon patted Pete's hand and said, “Hey, um, thanks for a really... really nice afternoon. I had fun. More than I, uh, expected to, to be honest.” He looked up at his house and shook his head, sighing. “Man, my mom is gonna kill me.” He cleared his throat, then said, “Uh, anyway, thanks again. I'll uh, talk to you tomorrow?” He started for the door handle but Pete grabbed his other hand and pulled him back.

“Wait,” Pete said, his voice gravelly. “Don't... don't go yet.”

Axon turned to look at Pete's face, backlit by the streetlight. “Pete...” he sighed.

“Yeah,” was all Pete could manage before he was leaning in closer, pulling the kid in by the back of his neck. Their mouths met, warm and soft, and the kid let out a whimper, but didn't pull away.

When they did pull apart, he sighed again, “Pete.” His breath was shaky, and his skin was warm. It was absolutely perfect.

Except Pete didn't know what to call him.

“Tell me your name, please?” Pete begged, running his fingers over Axon's temple. “Tell me who you are. I want to know.”

Axon recoiled, staring Pete down. He was shaking, still, but it didn't seem like it was with any of the good feelings from before. “You can call me 'Axon', or you can not call me, Pete. I gotta go.” He got out of the car before Pete could protest, slamming the door behind him and running up to the house.

“Shit,” Pete sighed heavily, letting his head loll back against the seat. And he was in it. Deep. Without a paddle.


	6. Chapter 6

Axon went in the house, slamming the front door behind him.

“Honey? Is that you?” Pat called from upstairs.

“Yeah, Mom, it's me,” he called, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

She came storming down, tying her bathrobe. “Where on Earth have you been? I've been worried sick! You didn't come home, you didn't call...”

“I went out with Pete,” he said sadly, looking at his feet. “He just... um, like, came and got me after school and um, we hung out in the city for a while.”

“You went into the city with an older boy without even telling me where you were going? Baby, do you even know how scared I was, not knowing where you...” Pat stopped mid-rant on seeing her son looking down, sniffling and hiccuping. “What happened? What's wrong?”

Axon looked up at his mother, tears running down his face. “He acted like he liked me, Mom. And... and I thought I liked him, too, but... he just... he just wanted what he wanted. He...” Pat took her son's shoulders. “What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?”

He took a few gulping breaths and said, “Not like that, Mom. He... he just wanted my fucking _name_. He acted like... like we were... like he... just to try and trick me into telling him my real name.” He hadn't even noticed he'd just sworn in front of his mother.

Pat didn't seem to mind at the moment. She smoothed her hands over his hairline and cheeks. “Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. I really hope it's a misunderstanding and not as bad as you think.” She hugged her son close. “Love is awful sometimes, isn't it?” she said sympathetically.

Axon nodded against her shoulder. “It really sucks.”

She kissed his temple and said, “Get some sleep, honey. Maybe things won't look so bad in the morning and you and Pete can sort some things out. OK?”

He shrugged and started up the stairs “Maybe.”

******

Pete came careening into his driveway and parked askew. He pounded his fists on the steering wheel a few times, shouting curses as tears filled his eyes. This was supposed to be simple. Take the kid out, befriend him, win his trust, get that one pesky piece of information that the kid had been guarding so jealously. Not that Pete hadn't really wanted them to be friends. He had. Really, at the heart of it, though, this had been about _winning_.

But Pete hadn't planned on falling for him. Or, God, even less likely, the kid seeming to like him back.

Now he wanted to know his name for other reasons. He wanted to roll it around in his mouth, call it out while he came, whisper it in his ear. He wanted the key to unlock that safe inside him, wanted to see everything Axon kept hidden away, the things he thought weren't worth seeing or knowing. It wasn't about _winning_ anymore. It was about needing Axon to surrender himself willingly, to open up of his own accord and want to show Pete all of him. Pete needed that now, like he needed air... no, like he needed Gino's pizza.

Goddammit, Pete wanted the kid to trust him for real. To _love_ him.

That was why he'd asked again. Axon had called Pete by name, said it like it meant something, and Pete genuinely had wanted to be able to give that back to him. And he couldn't. Not like that. But Axon had misread him, of course. And why not? Pete had been a first-class douche from the beginning, and the kid was shy and insecure. Why should he believe that Pete could be trusted, all of a sudden? Pete hadn't done a whole lot to earn it, really. He didn't deserve it, and he knew it.

But he wanted it, anyway.

Having calmed down a bit, he straightened out the car so his dad could get out for work, and went inside.

“Peter?” Pete's dad called from his office. “I had a break at work, and uh, I think I may have found your mystery boy. I left the information in your room.”

Pete sighed, “Thanks, Dad.” Then he went upstairs.

“Don't sound so happy!” his father called after him in a sarcastic tone.

When Pete got to his room, there was a manila envelope on his bed. Pete picked it up and turned it over in his hands, his heart racing. Everything Pete wanted to know about Axon could be right there in front of him, sealed only with flimsy glue and one brad.

Then he flashed on the kid's face, alight with laughter in the museum.

The smell of cardboard and the touching of knuckles.

The way he'd blushed and looked at Pete as though he were worth looking at.

The warm, soft feel of his lips, the way kissing him had kinda felt perfect and natural and right.

The look of hurt and betrayal on that lovely, young face, right before he ran away over what, for anyone else, was such a simple question.

_What's your name?_

For Axon, though, it was obviously about more.

_Who are you? Why are you so afraid?_

Good questions, all. But ones Axon would have to answer when _he_ was ready, not when _Pete_ was.

He ripped the papers in two and tossed them in the trash.

******  
Once again, Pete was sitting on the hood of his car, tapping his fingers nervously. This time, though, a dozen orange roses sat on his lap.

Axon hadn't returned any phone calls, chat prompts, or emails in a week. Spiraling into panic, Pete had called Joe and told him everything. Joe had sighed deeply and admonished Pete to _Fix this, NOW_.

So, here he was, again awaiting the end of the school day, and with it, the arrival of his fate, whatever it might ultimately be. He was being melodramatic, and he knew it, but his entire future was riding on winning Axon over, both personally and professionally, and he knew it. Not that he intended to put that kind of pressure on the poor kid, at least not right away.

 _Maybe it's better he stays away from me_ , the self-deprecating part of his brain reasoned. Just then, the doors opened and school let out, and Axon was among the first ones rushing down the steps. _It's t_ _oo late to turn back now_ , Pete's mind sang. _I believe, I believe, I believe I'm falling in love..._

“Jesus, Pete, what are you doing here?” Axon hissed, cutting through his thoughts. “What's with the flowers?”

“Um, I came to apologize. And explain some things,” Pete said, holding the flowers out. Axon scoffed and started to walk away, but Pete grabbed his shoulder. “Please just hear me out?”

“I know what you want,” the kid said, rolling his eyes.

Pete stood up, still holding the flowers out, and moved a little closer to him. “Do you, now?”

“Yeah, and I'm not going to tell you, so you can just stop this.” Axon folded his arms in front of him, his chin jutted defiantly.

Pete shook his head, letting his arms fall to his sides, so the bouquet was hanging upside down at his hip. “No I can't. I can't be friends with you, can't... anything with you unless I know who you really are. I need to be able to trust you, and I need you to be able to trust me. Nothing else can happen without that.”

Axon let his arms fall by his sides. “You know who I am. You just don't know the name my mother gave me. So? Who cares? People use stage names all the time! I'll probably change my name legally, anyway, once I'm old enough!”

“But you're not yet, so that's another year or more of trying to hide this, anyway. Please, dude, I can't sleep! It's driving me nuts!” Pete raked a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up wildly.

“Oh my God, seriously, you need to get a life, if this is what consumes your thoughts,” Axon snapped, turning away again.

“Not just your name! YOU do!” Pete cried, putting his fingers to his forehead and wincing as soon as it was out. Axon looked around helplessly as a handful of kids passing by spared a wary glance. “Yeah, OK, at first it was just about your name. Shit, I even asked about it at your work, and I had my dad look into it.” Pete held the bouquet up again. “I mean, if I really wanted to be King Asshole, I could probably offer these to anyone walking by us right now who would tell me what I want to know.” He looked at the ground as he said this, feeling shame creep up as he admitted everything he'd done. “And, yeah, when I came and got you the other day, it was because I'd hit a wall, and I wanted to see if I could get you to open up and tell me. I thought I just wanted to win, you know? To beat you at your own stupid, insecure game. But during that awesome day we spent together, it became more than that, because I got to know you. And when we...” Pete looked around, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “When we kissed, and you said  
my name, you made me feel... like, really awesome, and like we were... _something_ , I don't know...and I wanted to be there with you, the real you, sharing that. Not with some fake stage name. I wanted to _know_ you, to be able to take some of what you made me feel and give it back, you know? And I couldn't, and it... just, it hurt.”

“So say it now,” Axon challenged, stepping back from Pete and folding his arms. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were red, and his jaw was set with determination. The afternoon sun glinted off his hair from a little behind and beside him. Pete felt suddenly, stupidly like grabbing him and kissing him, he looked so absolutely beautiful.

“What?” Pete croaked, frowning with confusion.

“You know my name. Say it now.” He looked rapidly down at his feet, then up again, clenching and unclenching his teeth.

Pete dropped his arms back to his sides and looked down. “I can't,” he said softly.

Axon cocked a hip and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, you can't? You can. I know who your dad is. If he investigated me, then I'm sure he found me.”

“I think he did.” Pete still didn't look up, and he felt his eyes filling with tears.

Axon uncrossed his arms and balled his fists at his sides. “Well, then, SAY IT!” he roared.

Pete shook his head. “I can't.”

“You can!” the younger boy roared. He obviously didn't care who was staring now.

“I can't because I don't know it!” Pete sobbed, finally lifting his head to meet Axon's gaze. “After that day, our day, I came home and my dad gave me an envelope with information that might have been about you. I don't know.” He held up his hands between him and Axon. “I don't know, because I didn't read it. I tore it up and threw it away. I don't want to find out like that. I don't want to _win_ anymore. I want you to _want_ me to know things about you. So, like, whenever you feel like telling me things, anything, I'll be waiting.” He started to turn away, then said, “I'm sorry, Axon.”

Pete thrust the bouquet into his arms and turned back toward his car. With every step, he hoped Axon would call after him, stop him, and tell him it was OK. He got in and started the engine, waiting for the knock on his window, a cry for him to wait. As he backed out of his parking space, he looked in the rearview mirror and saw Axon holding the orange flowers and looking from them to Pete's car with a completely dumbfounded look on his face.

Pete drove home, tears still streaming down his cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

Pete lay on his bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling in the dark as a summer thunderstorm raged outside. Normally, he'd be out in it, or watching it from as close range as possible. There was nothing quite like seeing lightning touch down on Lake Michigan.

Well there had been nothing like it, until he'd kissed Axon.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned as he bent and unbent his knees. He felt the most bizarre and annoying combination of restless and totally exhausted, torn between doing something incredibly stupid and reckless, and just passing out from the stress of it all.

Then, there was a knock at the door of his room. “Pete?” It was Dale. “Pete, there's someone here to see you.”

“I don't want to see anyone, Mom.”

“Not even me?” a familiar voice cut in from behind Dale. Pete craned his head and saw Joe coming into the room as Dale left. Pete shrugged a shoulder, then curled onto his side to make room as Joe sat down.

He sat leaned up against the wall, legs stretched out and ankles crossed, and patted Pete's hip. “I'd ask how you're doing, but... I mean, I haven't gotten two dozen phone calls from you in, like, three days, so I'm guessing you're doing pretty shitty.”

Pete nodded. “I messed everything up, Joe. The band, my... whatever it was with Axon... it's all so screwed up.”

“What was it with you and him?” Joe asked.

“I don't know what it was for him, but... it started out with me just wanting to beat him, get the one-up on him, you know, just because he said I couldn't. You know how I get.” Joe snickered and nodded. Pete went on, “And, yeah, I definitely wanted to get to know him, be friends, maybe more. But, once I spent time with him, got to know him... I was, like, dumbstruck. He's an amazing guy, and he's smart, and funny, and beautiful, and I... I think I'm in love with him, Joe. And... and h-he probably hates me and never wants to see me again.” Pete was fully crying again now. “I brought him flowers and I told him everything and I apologized and... it still wasn't enough.”

“You brought him flowers?” Joe said. “Wow.”

“He did,” a new voice chimed in. “They were orange. My favorite color.”

Pete sat bolt upright at the sound of that voice. “Axon?”

He stood in the doorway of Pete's room, smiling sheepishly. He was soaked through and his cheeks were tinged pink. “Um, I hope you don't mind, Joe told me where you live, and your mom told me you were up here.”

Pete shook his head rapidly, eyes wide. “I don't mind.”

They just stood staring at each other for about a full minute, and finally Joe cleared his throat and stood up. “Well, I'm, uh, just gonna let you two talk things over. I, uh, hope we have a band when this is all said and done.” He clapped Axon's shoulder as he passed, then shut the door behind him.

Axon gestured toward the bed. “Can I...” Pete nodded and hugged his knees to make room for him to sit wherever he wanted. He chose the edge of the bed furthest from the wall where Pete was huddled, and sat with a leg tucked under him so they could face each other.

After another lengthy silence, Pete finally spoke. “I'm sorry, A—”

The boy held up a hand before Pete could say the name. “I know. And, I'm sorry, too. You were right, a-about... some things... and if we're gonna even so much as be in a band together, we have to trust each other. I can't keep hiding from everyone...” he looked away a minute, then back at Pete, straight into his eyes. “Especially you.”

Pete just stared at this sweet, shy, probably very scared boy, and felt his heart threatening to burst into pieces if he didn't touch him, hold him, kiss him, _something_ , and, like, _soon_. But he clutched tighter at his knees and waited for the kid to go on.

Axon looked at his hands folded in his lap. “I stopped telling people my real name because, well, it's dorky and awkward and I kind of hate it. But, also, I guess I just... my last name is my dad's name, too, and he's the one that left my mom and me here and ran off to Washington with someone else, and... I... I don't know, I just... I saw my chance to be someone new, you know? Someone cooler, tougher, maybe a little less shy and awkward. Someone less... I don't know, less me?” He looked at Pete. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes and no,” Pete said. “I mean, I know no one likes themselves entirely, and God knows sometimes Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III seems a little bit... uh, unwieldy, I guess. But... I saw you, dude. I saw you, for real, in the museum and the record store. I saw the brilliant, happy, totally gorgeous person you're keeping under lock and key, and... I want to know his name. I want to know every single thing there is to know about him, inside and out... because I'm in love with him.” Pete huddled further into himself and rested his nose on his kneecaps. “You probably overheard that part when you got here, but I really wanted you to hear it from me. To you.”

Axon gave a nervous little chuckle. “I, uh, I did catch that. But I'm glad you said it. Y'know, to me.” Suddenly, he stood up, and offered his hands to Pete. Pete turned his head and looked up at the boy incredulously. “Come on,” he prodded. Pete took his hands and let himself be directed to stand up so the two of them were facing each other. The boy shifted from foot to foot for a second, seeming to get comfortable, then squared his shoulders, and held out his hand. “I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name's Patrick Martin Stumph. With an 'h' at the end. It's nice to meet you.”

Pete took Patrick's hand and shook it slowly, staring in complete amazement. “Well, uh, I'm Pete, and I love you, Patrick.” With that, he yanked the younger boy in, like he had before, tilted his head, and kissed him. “Patrick,” he said between kisses. “Patrick, Patrick, Patrick.”

Patrick rested his forehead against Pete's. “By the way, I'm pretty sure love you, too,” he said a bit bemusedly.

“Of course you do. Everyone does, whether they want to or not,” Pete proclaimed.

With an affectionate sigh, the former Axon groaned, “What am I gonna do with you?”

Pete shrugged a shoulder and snaked both arms around him, pulling him closer. “Well, I was thinking we should, like, start a band.”

“We need a drummer,” Patrick said.

“Well, not, like, right this second, tonight,” Pete said, dropping his voice a bit and grinding against Patrick and drawing a startled gasp out of him. “But, you know, at some point soon. For right now, though...” He slid his hands up Patrick's back.

Patrick looked toward the door. “But... your parents...”

“Are two floors down from us, and they won't hear a thing as long as you use your indoor voice.” Pete smiled wickedly and kissed him again. “Now, Patrick, you wanna sing for me, or what?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

******

EPILOGUE

“Come on, Hurley, one extra twist of a wingnut isn't gonna make the drums sound better,” Joe whined.

“Says you,” Andy said serenely, peering at the setup with intense focus.

Patrick sat tuning up while Pete strapped his bass on.

“Oh, babe, I wrote something. Take a look,” Patrick said, handing Pete a folded-up piece of paper.

“Sure,” Pete said enthusiastically, and opened it up. His eyes scanned it and rapidly and he said, “'Trick, is this about our day?”

Patrick blushed. “Kinda, yeah.”

“But it was on a Tuesday, ” Pete said as he narrowed his eyes playfully.

Patrick shrugged. “I know, but ''Saturday' just... has a nicer ring to it, y'know?”

“Yeah, I get it. So, how does it go?”

Patrick stood up and took Pete's hands. “Don't worry, I'll tell you,” he said, and kissed his mouth gently.

The rest, as they say, is history.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another 'SelketsChild' classic I decided to dig up and re-post. Enjoy.


End file.
